


67 Masks on the Wall

by hoopdedoop



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:17:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5461184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoopdedoop/pseuds/hoopdedoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In times of giving, choose your gifts wisely; Choose the ones that last.</p><p>Material objects are fine, too.</p><p>They were not all made to eventually perish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	67 Masks on the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the tumblr-based Touhou Secret Santa, and this year I am the Secret Santa for tumblr user cloudytian!!
> 
> The keywords I picked from the wishlist were:
> 
> -mythology/folklorism  
> -cheery cuteness  
> -extended HijiMiKokoro family with cool aunt Mamizou  
> -underlying narrative structure
> 
> In the end, it became a story focused a lot on the nature of tsukumogami, and specifically the menreiki.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing, and I hope that shows!

 

 

 

 

This year again, there were no Christmas carols, no decorative lights, no Santa Claus figurines on the windowsills. The snow fell all the same, it was already knee-deep, and every few days there was more. It was different, but not so different either.

There was a similar tension- Soon the year would end, and people were affected by that line of thinking alone. There was a sort of unspoken, shared feeling between the humans and the youkai alike, a rush to finish-- To set matters right before the year ended.

There was hardly anyone in Gensoukyou who even knew of Christmas, so it reminded Mamizou of the older days. It had only been a hundred years of religious freedom for the Christians on the main land, and a few decades of commercial imports. She hardly missed it, at least no more than she missed the outside in general.

It was really more a coincidence than anything, that she choose to go gift-buying. Unless, she too had been affected by that very same mentality, the one that came around as the year was coming to an end.

Jingle bells, but not the Christmas kind, sounded, greeting her.

"Welcome!"

With the initial greeting, she was alienated as just another customer.

A double-take, and Kosuzu looked up. "Ah, hello! Good to see you!"

"Hey, yeah, good morning,"

It was still early. The Suzunaan had just opened for business.

"How are you doing?" Kosuzu asked. "It's usual to see you here so early."

"Oh, me? I'm good, I'm good!" Mamizou cackled, winding up a tension that dwindled quickly.

Mamizou hadn't thought this through all that far, not yet. So when Kosuzu noticed and asked her, "How can I help you today?" she didn't have that much to say.

"I'm, uh," She looked across the bookshelves. She should know her way around here pretty well by now, shouldn't she. "Looking to buy a present."

"A present, I see." Kosuzu affirmed. Mamizou's contemplation was pretty clear. She was here as a customer today. "If I may ask, who is the present for? Do you know their preferences?"

"Well it's not really about preferences and more about, well, necessity, I suppose? And well, it's for a girl I know."

"Necessity?" Kosuzu was not just doing her job, she was genuinely interested. "As in, there is something she needs?"

"Yeah, I guess..." Mamizou made her way through the shop. Non-fiction was in the back, if she remembered correctly. "It's like, eh, she's a divorcee-child, I guess. And, I want to make sure she keeps maturing safely."

"I see... Is it for her birthday?" Kosuzu was still trying to visualize the situation.

"No, it's not... But I guess you could think of it that way." Mamizou tried to give Kosuzu something more to work with. "As for her interests... Art? Psychology? Theater... I guess?"

"Oh, she sounds quite refined." Steadfast, Kosuzu walked past Mamizou. They both had the same idea.

"We have books on theater." Kosuzu didn't have to search for anything. Without looking she pulled out a book from one of the shelves. "How about this?"

Mamizou took the book in her hand. It was aged, and proudly so. It was a fine book, and it would make a lovely gift.

Flipping it through, Mamizou considered it. However, something did not feel quite right.

"When was this published?" Mamizou flipped it all the way through. She looked on the last page.

"Ah... I think it was published in about season 75." Kosuzu sounded pretty confident.

"It's a very beautiful book." Mamizou said, and Kosuzu nodded just a bit proudly. "But it's not quite what I'm looking for."

"I see." Kosuzu took the book back. As a professional, and as a friend, she was understanding. "Is there anything else you want to look at?"

"No, I'm good. Thanks for the help, I know what I need to get her now, I know just the thing in fact." Mamizou was already moving towards the door.

"Oh, really? That's great." Kosuzu smiled brightly. "I was glad to help."

"I'd stick around, but gotta get going." Mamizou excused herself.

"It's fine, I'm pretty busy anyway." There was a lot to do this time of the year. "Good bye, and good luck!

"See ya!"

Jingle bells, but not the Christmas kind. Mamizou had left the bookshop without a present, instead, she had an idea.

 

 

 

 

# 67 Masks on the Wall

 

 

 

 

 

It was a few days later, a few more days that counted down to the new year, and a few more layers of snow to have fallen.

The temple walkway was a well worked path of hard-packed snow. With the snow so heavy on the rooftops, and piling up in inside as well as outside the surrounding walls, the temple itself appeared like a mirage.

In a temple built mostly from wood and paper, the snow actually offered some isolation from the elements. No-one was using the backdoor this time of the year. It was completely snowed shut.

Easy-distracted and with a rebellious streak, Kyouko was a surprisingly hard worker all the same. Her broom exchanged for a shovel, she had already been working hard for many hours. 

**"He~y!"** With all the extra clothes, and a big, tightly wrapped scarf hiding half her face, she looked almost like a caricature. "You back already, boss?"

"Yeah, yeah," Mamizou laughed at the sight of her. She was over-bound with energy.

Kyouko sniffled and rubbed her running nose. "I wasssa," _Sniff,_ "Not expecting that!"

"Well, I've been in a hurry to be honest with ya," Mamizou patted her head. "You're hard at work outta here, eh, kid?"

Kyouko turned, almost hyper, looking behind her, next to her, as if to make sure before replying. "Sure I am!"

"Hijiri'll be off your back for a while then?"

Kyouko had just leaned over to shovel another batch of freshly fallen snow. She laughed. "I sure hope so!"

 

 

 

 

The fires were burning every hour of the day. There was only so much heat they could conserve. The main room of worship was particularly cold; the doors often stood open to invite worshipers, and with nothing to heat it but candle-lights and the daytime sunshine, you could see your breath turn to mist in the air even indoors.

Coming and going to this place as often as she did, coming back to lodge and rest, leaving to see the rest of Gensoukyou, Mamizou found a few interesting contrasts.

The humans in the village often said that the establishment of a youkai temple was absurd, even contradictory. The idea of them gathering together, co-operating, living together in faith; Something like that would be hard for most to even try and imagine.

Mamizou wasn't sure she'd go that far- However contradictory it may seem, temples and shrines were not uncommon places for youkai to gather. Historical documentations aside, her own experiences told the same story.

The idea of youkai gathering in groups and co-operating was something most humans didn't like to visualize, it was scary, and it was alien, it was something that would imply that humans and youkai were not so different after all. Like the tengu on the mountain and the kappa along the river or the oni underground, youkai were not necessarily solitary.

What was stranger about the temple was something else. It was to the extent that the youkai that lived here had become reliant on material matters-- Their clothes, their personal belongings, their everyday rituals outside of what was required in terms of worship or social interaction.

They were still distinguishably different from humans, but back in her youth, back in the olden days, youkai like the ones in the Myouren Temple had plain and simple not existed. At least, not as far as she had been concerned.

Some of them still were better examples of this phenomenon than others. When Mamizou passed the altar, the room was not empty, despite the harsh weather. A small, hunched over silhouette, perfectly still, instantly recognizable; Nazrin was not quite like the others.

Materialistic all the same perhaps, but that was because of her nature. Mice are collectors. In her faith, she was solemn, and while Mamizou didn't know her well enough to say whether or not she was sentimental, surely her perceived practicality was not simply a lack of such. Nazrin came to work, eat and pray. Then she would leave. She had no further use for the community, she had no use for their rituals, and spent most of her time absorbed in herself.

She hadn't changed. She was like the youkai of old. Like the ones Mamizou had known in her youth.

The times were changing however, and if they wanted to survive, the youkai had to keep changing as well.

Which is exactly what had happened, here, and elsewhere in many parts of Gensoukyou.

The transforming tanuki had always been the best at adapting. They were almost too good. Mamizou thought sometimes, about her old friends, ones she hadn't met in many hundred of years, and she wondered about how they had perhaps met their ends, living as humans in a human world.

The floors were not quite as cold further into the building. Mamizou heard a scramble and a pitter-patter, and as she turned into another corridor, she saw trinkets scattered in the hallway.

A steady, stiff movement, too determined, too powerful; Kokoro threw something over her shoulder. It hit the wall, and fell to the floor.

"Hey, hey-" Mamizou interrupted. "What're you doing, huh?"

Kokoro looked at her, calm, wordless- The hannya expressed her contempt.

"Hello," She said, unrevealing.

"What's up huh?" Mamizou was almost laughing. "What's the hubbub? I thought ya were supposed to be packing?"

"I'm cleaning." She cocked her head. Deadpan. Subtlety and exaggeration in combination.

Kokoro sat at the entrance to her room. It was an old guestroom, previously storage room. Mamizou herself shared a bigger room of the same nature with Nue, just further down the hall. Originally a last-minute solution, it had become a permanent arrangement.

Well, in Kokoro's case, semi-permanent. Half-time permanent.

"You're cleaning?" The hallways was littered with stuff. Mamizou went to pick up what Kokoro had just thrown. It was a child's toy, a rattle-drum."Where did you get this?"

"Found it." Kokoro sat now slumped, she had spread a blanket to pack her things in.

"You found it?" Mamizou thought about it. "You don't wanna to keep it anymore?"

"Hijiri says I need to clean out my stuff. She said," Kokoro paused and even if it was just for a second or less, Mamizou became expectant.

**_"Clean out your belongings!"_**

Sternly so, but with clarity: It was an amazing impression.

**"Discipline prospers only in order."**

Mamizou had a chuckle, but looking around her, something was clearly wrong. Kokoro was not cleaning, she was making a mess. It wasn't that she didn't know what to do either, or at least, Mamizou figured it wasn't.

"Hey, you sure you want throw stuff this away?" Mamizou tried to ask carefully. "Just checking."

"I have to do it, before I pack." Kokoro slumped further. It looked like her head might come loose from it's neck and fall onto the floor, like when the rokurokubi has too much to drink, and does her silly parlor tricks.

Mamizou sighed. She swept Kokoro's cleaned out items in front of her, reaching for the ones further away, picking them up, collecting them in a small pile.

It was all junk. A broken cup. A single, but fancy chopstick. A pair of reading glasses with a missing lens.

Kokoro looked up, and Mamizou saw she wore the old woman's face.

Mamizou sat by her. "Hey, come on," and put a hand on her shoulder, "You don't actually want to throw any of this away, do you?"

Kokoro nodded her head. "I wanna keep it."  


"Right, okay,"

It was a pretty strange situation. Kokoro would be so mature at times, and so childlike at others. Mamizou realized then, it was just like so much else she did. Kokoro was serious and she was a jokester, she was happy-go-lucky and she was easily-depressed.

Hot and cold, cold and hot, changing instantly like the weather on an early spring day.

It must be tough, Mamizou thought, to be so dynamic, beyond compare, without rest.

"Look," Mamizou had, in her line of thought, become all smiles. "I'll take care of it for ya, okay? We'll pack it all up, I'll keep it in my room. Hijiri never goes in there, so she won't know."

"Really?" There was no hope in her voice, but Mamizou knew better than to not realize there was none in her heart. "Would you do that?"

"Sure!" Mamizou might have felt awkward at this point. "Don't worry, it'll be fine." Because, with Kokoro, her conversations were almost too sincere.

"Thank you." A ghost of a smile. Kokoro leaned onto her shoulder, and Mamizou patted her head.

"Don't worry about it kid, it'll be fine." Mamizou reassured her once more. "Why do you have all this stuff here, anyway?"

She was genuinely curious.

"...." The silence was expected. Kokoro was thinking. "...Everyone else has so many nice things."

"Aaah..." Mamizou could understand.

"I wanted to have stuff in my room too, stuff that I had found or been given, stuff that reminds me of myself, so that'd be like my room, for real, but I don't know..." Kokoro shrugged vividly, strongly expressing indifference. "...If it's really working."

"...It's a start," Mamizou wanted to stay positive. "But these sort of things can take time, so..."

"My other room is full of things, but none of them are mine, so it feels weird. But this room is pretty empty." Kokoro turned her head.

"I don't like it." Firmly, she said it.

"I understand that." Mamizou, incidentally, had more than just words today.

So, as Kokoro signed dramatically, Mamizou reached into her sleeve.

"Actually, I got you a present."

Kokoro perked up immediately, and as soon as Mamizou held out the package, Kokoro eyed it up close.

"Here," Mamizou laughed, "Take it, will ya."

Kokoro took is graciously. She held it up to her ear. She observed it from every angle. Mamizou watched her with a mix of amusement and perplexity.

"What could it be, what could it be~" Kokoro sang without melody.

"You can open it later if you want." Mamizou suggested.

A whole new world seemed to have opened to Kokoro then, as she froze deep in thought.

"Hmmm....." She rubbed the wrapping with her fingers. "Yes. I will wait."

So, it was decided.

_"Gratitude be wisdom, for only fools be ungrateful!"_

She bowed her head to the floor.

"Thank you very much."

"...You can thank me later, it's fine." It wasn't that an important present, but Mamizou was still glad she had bought it.

"I'll be taking this with me." Kokoro placed the package carefully on top of a set of neatly folded clothes. "For later."

"...." Mamizou looked over her shoulder. "When're they coming to pick you up?"

"After dinner. Sometime then." Kokoro looked focused.

"I see. Well, we've got time until then." Mamizou got up. "Hijiri's gonna check on you right? Gotta make sure we get this place cleaned up, right?"

"Yessire!" Kokoro snapped to attention, bouncing up in a flash.

Mamizou left, chuckling as Kokoro got to work. Her room was just down the hall. Sliding the door open, she met darkness, covered windows and dust. It was usually like this. In a sense, this was a place shut off from the rest of the temple. Which was why, Mamizou had favour-coupons with several of her housemates. Ichirin and Shou were always asking her to stash their alcohol.

A murmur, and movement under the covers from the futon in the corner, the one that wasn't Mamizou's.

Mamizou opened the closet, and tried to be silent.

 _"Ughhhhhhhh,"_ She had obviously not tried hard enough.

_Shuffle, shuffle._

Mamizou got out a wooden crate. It had held several sake bottles at one point, not too long ago. It made a noise, scarping against the side of the door.

 _"Shhhuut uuup--"_  Nue had completely covered herself with her blankets, but twisting to the side, her appendages could not be contained. It was cold, with the draft from the door, and she shivered. " _Dammit,_ just---"

"I'll be leaving in a second, shit, calm down," Mamizou could hardly take her complaints seriously. "It's not even noon. Go back to sleep."

"As soon as you piss off I will."

"Yeah, _yeah, yeah--"_ Mamizou closed the door a bit louder than necessary.

When Mamizou came back, all of Kokoro's items were either left to be included in the pile, or packed with her clothes. It was not a lot of things she had to her name.

Kokoro herself, was staring at a paper in her hand.

"What's that?" Mamizou asked, interested.

Kokoro turned so slow, it was unsettling.

"It's a pamphlet."

"A pamphlet? For what?" Mamizou sat next to her once more, to get a better look.

"For the new bath house that opened recently. In the village." Kokoro explained, and seeing the illustration on it, Mamizou smiled.

It was a tanuki, seated in the bath, with a towel on its head- On its face, was an expression of pure, serene, satisfaction.

"You want to go?" Mamizou asked.

"Ichirin gave it to me," Kokoro explained further. "I like the illustration."

"Yeah, it's cute." Mamizou did think so, even if it was very simplistic.

"Not that." Kokoro said, bouncing back suddenly.

"Not?"

"I like the expression." Kokoro's grip on the thin paper hardened. "It's very.... Relaxed."

Kokoro tensed up. Mamizou sensed it, and laughed.

"I can't make that kind of expression, nope." She sighed.

Mamizou reached out and grabbed her cheeks. Kokoro tried to relax her face but the change was minimal. Mamizou kneaded her cheeks gently, trying to recreate that broad, content smile.

Kokoro closed her eyes.

 _"...Rike diis?"_  She asked, and Mamizou laughed again.

"I-I'm s-sorry but, no, it's not quite what-wa- _hahaha-_ " Mamizou let go of Kokoro's face, and tried to stop laughing.

"I guess not, huh." Kokoro didn't take it so bad. She knew this wasn't her forte. She looked at the pamphlet, and then at Mamizou. "I don't even have a-"

Kokoro interrupted herself.

 _"It looks like you."_ She pointed out the obvious.

"Gee, you think?"

_"Hmmmmmm..."_

"We miss you at the temple when you're not around, you know that, right?" Mamizou asked as she took the liberty of starting to tie up Kokoro's blanket of clothes and trinkets.

Kokoro stopped her. She pressed the pamphlet into the package.

Mamizou didn't question her.

"I know. I miss you too... I guess." Kokoro replied simply. "I'm not gone for very long though. And I always come back."

"Yeah, yeah, I, uh, I guess I just wanted to let you know that. In case you hadn't realized." Mamizou rubbed her neck. "Um, you're keeping out of trouble, right?"

"Sure." Kokoro didn't hesitate with her answer, but then, "Or... Well, I mean-"

"You and that, uh, satori, keeping things civil, right?" Mamizou had been meaning to ask. "She comes here and all."

"Uh-huh, she comes." Kokoro was firm once more. "She comes to _challenge_ me! And we fight!"

A fist in the air, the fox mask: a standard combination.

"Oh, uh, that's..." Mamizou wasn't sure what to say. "Great?"

"I always look forward to it. We always have fun, anyway."

 _As long as they keep things civil,_ Mamizou thought, It should be fine. No-one ever got hurt from some healthy competition.

"She treats you ok, though? She's not mean to you, is she?" Kokoro could take of herself just fine in these situations. Mamizou was just making sure. Yeah.

"...She's pretty nice to me these days." Kokoro fiddled with her fingers, a stark contrast to her still, unmoving body. Mamizou saw.

"Uhh, I see, that's, well," Mamizou bit her tongue. _Yikes._

Kokoro's skin was porcelain, and it was never anything but. Yet, Mamizou could swear-

 **"I like her."** 

"That great kid, really great." Mamizou patted her on the head repeatedly. Now was not a good time to giggle-snort; It was easier to keep talking. "I'm glad for you, really, just great- _Just_ , just dandy."

"M-hm." Kokoro nodded.

Mamizou sighed. Never a dull moment, huh.

Not to say she had lied just now, because she hadn't.

"Hey, I'm gonna go leave this stuff in my room." Mamizou went to get the crate. It wasn't even half-full, far from.

"Thank you again." Kokoro said, now quietly.

"Hey, don't mention it."

 

 

 

 

When Mamizou looked back out from her room less than 2 minutes later, she saw Byakuren in the hallway.

"I see you're just finished."

Kokoro rose from the floor to address her. "Yes." When Mamizou approached them, Kokoro reached for her arm. "Mamizou helped me."

"I guess I did." Mamizou didn't have much else to offer but a smile.

"That's splendid." Byakuren responded a bit too quickly. Things had always been, and remained to be, a tad tense between them.

Kokoro knew, and thought it was silly. "She was great help." 

Byakuren softened up, "Of course," She turned to look Mamizou in the eye as she said, "Thank you. Me and Kokoro have some matters to attend to today, I was worried this would drag out on time."

"It was just she looked like she needed some help is all." Mamizou's answer didn't change that much, Byakuren's skeptic attitude she could do without, but on the contrary, her sincerity she found excessive.

Byakuren nodded in response. "Now, if you don't mind."

"Sure, I don't." Whatever it was that needed their attention, Mamizou could imagine. "You two go ahead, and, kid," Kokoro snapped to attention, "If I don't see you till you gotta leave, then, goodbye- and take of yourself, you hear?"

Swift and bold, Kokoro gave two approving thumbs-up.

Mamizou cackled as she backed, turned and left. "Good kid, good kid!"

 

 

 

 

Kokoro followed Byakuren down the hallway, walking just by her side.

"How are you?"

Byakuren had asked abruptly.

Kokoro considered if she had any specific reason to ask. "I'm good, no problem."

"Really?" Byakuren turned to her, as if careful.

"A-yup!" Kokoro faced her, a serious face to match her up-beat voice. "It's a good day so far."

"Actually, I wanted to apologize," Byakuren inhaled for a sigh that never came. "I didn't mean to be so forceful to you yesterday."

"I understand." The situation indeed had made her stressed, but Kokoro didn't particularly hold anything against Byakuren. "It's fine. You don't have to be sorry."

Byakuren let Kokoro's answer sink in. "I see. That's-" She wasn't sure what to say. "That's good to hear, but regardless, I wanted to apologize to you."

"Apology accepted!" Kokoro responded bluntly.

Byakuren smiled pleasantly once more. "Say, I had something a bit different in mind for today, something I wanted to do before you leave."

They had talked about this already, a few days ago. The year was ending, Kokoro was going away again, perhaps that was why, or perhaps it had nothing to do with that at all.

Kokoro didn't mind being reminded. "Right!" After all, "I have been looking forward to it!"

Byakuren was a bit surprised. "Oh, you have? That's great to hear. I hope I won't be disappointing you!"

"Nah," Kokoro shook her head. "You won't, I'm sure."

Usually the temple's weekly schedule was very strict. Sermons, recitals, meditation, cleaning, cooking, everyday starting early and ending late. Not everyone was as committed, but regardless, the schedule was there for those who were- Others made their own rules.

From the backdoor, they entered. It was as chilly as always, but not as empty as they had expected it to be.

Nazrin was still there. A second perhaps, then she broke her concentration, and looked up.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Byakuren apologized. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I didn't realize you were here,"

She seemed to have been hit with a genuine streak of concern.

Nazrin on the other hand didn't seem concerned at all, rolling her head from side to side, as she stared onto the altar. "It's fine." She said, however dryly.

"I was just leaving." She sounded as if she had snort just at the tip of her tongue. She stretched her legs for just a spell, "It wasn't my intention-" Before standing, "To overstay my welcome, either."

Byakuren hoped that was the case. "You're always so diligent." She lowered her head in a meager bow. "Thank you for today."

Nazrin shrugged. "Yeah, sure." Without returning the favor, she turned to leave. "Good day to you, Hijiri."

Nazrin left through the side door. Byakuren closed the front doors as well, and the room became darker, lit only by candles- The ones at the altar and the ones left where Nazrin had been seated.

Kokoro sat down to wait. Meanwhile, Byakuren got a wooden box out of a closet compartment- It was dainty and unornamented. Then, she retrieved two scrolls that laid prepared in front of the altar. Equal in terms of length and girth, the one thing that differed them from one another at first glance was wear. One, was clearly new, the other aged.

Sitting down with more than adequate space between them, Byakuren rolled out one of the scrolls with a trained, graceful movement.

Many times before had they read and studied scriptures together. Kokoro enjoyed it, even if it got lengthy at times, and she tended to look forward to the rare times Byakuren took time out of her busy everyday life to hold with her a private audience.

There was one problem however.

"Hijiri," Kokoro studied the length of the scroll. "...It doesn't say anything."

The scroll was blank, not quite pure-white, but blank all the same.

"Yes." Hands in her lap, Byakuren sat holding an impressive posture, the line of her back perfectly straight.

The box opened, with dual compartments, it revealed itself as a case. Brushes laid neatly lined, strapped in with fine lines of fabric, sown into the fabric furnishing itself. An ink stone, and ink- Byakuren took them out carefully, placing them both alongside the scroll.

_"----The four treasures."_

Byakuren was surprised. "Oh... Yes. Exactly. As you can see, we'll be doing calligraphy today."

"However, before that," Reinforcing her intonations, Byakuren rose her gaze from the four treasures of the study, and met Kokoro's gaze. "Let's talk for a bit. I'm sure you're wondering why we are doing calligraphy today. Kokoro?"

Kokoro's eyes went back and forth. "Um, um--" The monkey was speaking. "Why are we doing calligraphy today, Hijiri?"

Byakuren smiled. "Great question." She relaxed just a little bit, "The Dharma of calligraphy is like the Dharma of Buddha-"

A pause, for dramatic effect. Kokoro herself was the master of them.

"--It begins with the _discipline;_ It is improved in _meditation and wisdom;_ It is realized in the origin of _Heart;_ It becomes wonderful through _comprehension_. If it has reached the peak of perfection, it is also _unutterable."_

Kokoro nodded her head, actively passive. Such was the nature of a good listener.

"Calligraphy," Byakuren continued, "Is one of the many ways one can immerse oneself into perfecting an art, a movement, a single moment, requiring your full focus. As such, it functions as a form of meditation."

Kokoro's gaze as she concentrated would have been overwhelming for many, but Byakuren it was less troubling, more fulfilling.

Kokoro was not always diligent, but when she was, her focus was hard to match. 

"Initially, we learn the texts from reading them, studying them- Furthermore, we can also learn them by replicating them. Long before any sophisticated printing techniques existed, we only had this way of sharing manuscripts."

Byakuren paused for just a second.

"So," Kokoro remained patient. "As an important part of study as well as our history, I thought it was time I let you try your hand at replicating a manuscript yourself."

The cold had become a natural state, and Kokoro no longer thought much of it. Her breath still visible, was the only reminder.

"Especially for you, I feel this would be important." Byakuren's tone shifted. Less informative, more affectionate. "To create something with your own two hands, something that shall leave a mark behind, something that that holds both artistic expression and practical use to us here in the temple- As your nature as a youkai, I feel that process would be of much use to you, to further understand yourself and realize your own purpose."

"Yes," Kokoro had yet to think of that herself. "That's true."

Byakuren nodded. She let out a breath she had been holding.

Kokoro studied the four treasures. They were not unlike herself, she thought.

"I'm happy that you'd be that considerate, Hijiri." Kokoro said as she rose her head.

"I--" Byakuren hadn't prepared for that level of bluntness. "I do what I can to help you, always."

She found it only appropriate to reply with the same sincerity.

"Before we begin, there's just one thing I want to ask you." Byakuren said, "Kokoro. Why do you think we study history?"

"Umm, umm..." Kokoro sweated just a bit, as the monkey made it's reappearance. "To learn of the past?"

The response was as expected. Byakuren shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not."

"Why then?" Kokoro asked, cocking her head.

"We study the past to learn about ourselves." Byakuren said firmly.

"Ohhh..." Kokoro was impressed.

"Do you understand?" Byakuren asked, as Kokoro nodded furiously. "We learn of the past to learn of the present. In order to see where we stand, we must know where we came from. How else can we ever move forward?"

Byakuren rolled up the second scroll. It was an aged, well-used scroll, riddled with texts written by skilled hands. "An old scripture such as this holds the initial writers visions, emotions, and such-- You should know as much."

Kokoro kept nodding.

"--So, by replicating that, we can understand it, partake in it, learn of the past, and ourselves. Do you understand?"

The fox had replaced the monkey.

"I understand!" Kokoro said with vigor.

Byakuren smiled. "Very good."

Water was poured with a ladle from the basin. The ink-stone released it's ink into the water, and as the brush moved quick, the ink ran out in the same manner. Byakuren read from the scripture, and Kokoro replicated the text, each character one by one.

Kokoro's hand was steadfast and precise.

Without straying from her task, Byakuren admired her.

The writing-- It was an excerpt from the Saddharmapuṇḍarīka-- A good choice.

A good choice, for it teaches of the spiritual equality of all beings, and how all beings are accessible to the teachings of the Buddha.

Such a text surely has it extensive uses in a temple such as this.

However, there was one thing that Byakuren had not mentioned as she had spoken to Kokoro.

That was the paradox of the role calligraphy had in Buddhism. Calligraphy was an art, and thus, it was something indulgent, something of the earth, of the mortal world, to be discarded in the pursuit for enlightenment.

The calligraphy was born out of necessity, but became a distinguished art, something practicing Buddhist monks and scholars dedicated time and energy into perfecting.

As such, the Buddhist calligraphy tradition is something that lays on a border of celebrated necessity and condemned excess.

Byakuren was well aware of this. A tradition that was so contradictory to itself did only good to their temple- Bringing light to it would only cause trouble.

The youkai temple would continue to thrive on the religious contradictions, and their resident tsukumogami would reap the benefits. Calligraphy was an art, just like the noh. Kokoro herself had originally only existed as tools of the art, just like the brush in her hand.

This way, she would no doubt come closer to knowing herself.

\----They finished ahead of schedule.

In silence, Kokoro had put down her brush and Byakuren had rolled up her scroll.

Kokoro made sure to straighten her back once more, and closed her eyes-- She let the seconds pass, before once more laying eyes on the text before her.

"You have beautiful handwriting." Byakuren complimented her.

"Thank you very much." Kokoro lowered her head.

"It's crisp, good weighting..." Byakuren ran her finger alongside some of the final characters, careful not to touch the ink. "It's very hard to believe it's your first time doing this."

"You are way too kind, say way too much." The young woman spoke Kokoro's words, her statement humble but her smile proud.

"You are so focused too," Byakuren suddenly gave in to a small laugh, "Oh, I'm sorry. I just remembered, the first time I had Ichirin do this, haha, she became so frustrated she almost cried."

"Really?" Kokoro felt like she might have learned something confidential.

"Yes, but it was a very, very long time ago. She was still young, still a human, too..." Byakuren shook her head. "Back then, we had a disagreement, but I guess it's a fond memory now."

Kokoro had learned of the past today, and not just from the scriptures.

"Oh, let me take this and put it out to dry properly," Byakuren reached to pick up the scroll.

Kokoro felt she should perhaps do it herself, but did not intervene.

Byakuren stood up, and then, the front door opened from the outside.

"Excuse me-" The brightness of the daylight was just a tad harsh. Although Kokoro could not make out her face, Shou's silhouette was unmistakable. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt anything. It's just that-"

"Oh, don't worry, we just finished up here!" Byakuren spoke with an unusually happy tone.

"Do you need anything?" Kokoro asked, having sensed that was the case.

"I was just wondering, have either of you seen Nazrin?" Shou looked just a bit puzzled. Normally sharp, she seemed a bit out of it today. "She was supposed to be here."

"Oh." Kokoro realized, maybe they had unintentionally caused some trouble. "She left." The bluntness of her answer, unaffected.

"Yes, I'm afraid she left. At least, I think so." Byakuren held out the scroll to Shou, meeting her by the door. "Have you seen this? Can you imagine Kokoro has never done calligraphy before?"

 _"Oh--"_ Shou had her mind elsewhere, and needed a second to consider. "Wait-" Turning her head, hit by a spell of concentration, she was quickly fascinated. "You did this?"

"You bet I did!" Kokoro's double thumbs-up made their comeback.

"I was thinking, maybe we could put this up on display, perhaps? What do you think?" Although she had just asked, Byakuren no doubt sounded like she had already made her mind up.

"If you really want that, then it would be an honor." Kokoro bowed.

"You have my approval, Hijiri. I think it's a great idea." Shou agreed, but with a more careful enthusiasm. "Now, forgive me, but I'm afraid I must take my leave."

"Oh, please, go ahead." Hijiri didn't raise her head to see Shou off.

"Oh, and-" Shou remembered something. "Would you mind speaking with Kyouko, Kokoro? I think she needs some assistance."

"Sure thing." Kokoro responded.

"Alright. Good day to the two of you."

Shou left, clearing up the space in the entrance.

Still seated on the floor, Kokoro watched Byakuren's form against the harsh white light of the cold winter day. Her breath turned into vapor, rhythmically appearing, rising and disappearing, turning invisible against the white sky already before dispersing.

Her long robes that obscured her from, and her hair akin a veil, and the manner she was still absorbed in the scroll before her, a tranquil smile on her face, she looked just like the praying Buddhistava statues. The ones that were carved in dark stone and stood unmoving by the roadsides, guiding stray wanderers, comforting them on their long journeys.

Snow had started falling ever so softly, with a build-up so slow it was hardly noticeable from one moment to another. 

The outline engraved in her mind, Kokoro wondered about this feeling, this feeling she had here and now. How should she describe it?

Kokoro looked to her side, where the case that held the four treasures of the study still laid open. Without thinking, she rose her hand to run her fingers along the soft, smooth bamboo surface of the paintbrush hilts.

"Hijiri-"

Byakuren looked up, and saw Kokoro spellbound by the calligraphy equipment.

"You can keep those for yourself if you want."

Kokoro snapped her head up instantaneously. The monkey was hard at work today. 

"Really?! You'll give it to me, just like that?!"

Byakuren smiled. "Sure. If you have it, the chances are higher it might actually be put to use."

"Thank you, thank you!" Kokoro celebrated, clapping her hands.

"We have others anyhow, but most of them are just collection dust."

Few of the others had time, or were qualified.

Kokoro thought the case and it's contents, in their simple, practical design, were beautiful. Now, she had one more thing to have in her room, something that held emotional, practical and historical significance. Something that reminded her of herself.

Happiness realized, Kokoro went to put the set back together. She had to pack this, too.

Before she could return to her room, however, the shovel had been shoved in too deep, and the power required was too much. With a startled cry, Kyouko fell over. Her voice was loud as always, and she easily heard all across the temple grounds.

Byakuren turned her head. "Oh dear,"

"Kokoro," Byakuren turned, "Could you go check on her, please?"

Byakuren turned her head. "Oh dear,"



 _Had she been listening?_ Kokoro wondered, before deciding it didn't matter.

"Sure, I'll go." Flatly she had given her response, and hastily she dashed to Kyouko's side.

Face-planted into the snow, Kokoro grabbed Kyouko's hand and helped her up. She had been more than capable to get up herself, normally, but what she lacked was motivation.

 **"Ahhh..."**  She complained. "How I am even supposed to do this? It just keeps piling up and piling up."

Kyouko had been simply shoveling the snow to the side, resulting in growing walls of snow that surrounded the pathways. That made it harder and harder to maintain as the weeks passed-- Especially with the snow melting during the milder midday hours and then freezing again at midnight, creating layers of ice from day to day.

"I'm here to help." Kokoro informed.

"That's great, but..." Kyouko had hoped for someone else. "Oh well. The shovels are in the bottom floor storage. You know the one, right?"

"Sure!" Kokoro turned in a flash.

"Oh, and..." Kyouko sighed. "Could you ask Ichirin if you see her? She and Unzan would be great help."

"I haven't seen her today, actually." Kokoro wondered why that could be.

Kyouko saw Byakuren go back inside. There was no reason to hide anything. "They were all staying up late drinking last night. Well, some of them at least. She was supposed to help me, but I bet she's still hung-over."

Kyouko shrugged. "But if you see her, tell her to get out here."

Recognizing Kyouko's troubles, Kokoro went to retrieve two extra shovels. Ichirin's room was on the second floor.

Kokoro had rattled the door, and torn down the dirty laundry stuffed into the windows.

Ichirin had rubbed her eyes and complained, but when Kokoro sat by the door, refusing to leave, she changed her tone eventually.

Within the hour, the three of them, along with Unzan, were clearing the snow together.

"Calligraphy, huh?" Ichirin had already regained some of her vigor. "Wow, she's pushing you pretty hard, isn't she?"

Kokoro shoveled snow into the air with a calculated thoughtless movement. "It was fun." She said, boredly.

"Really?" Ichirin wasn't actually doubting her. "Each to their own, I guess."

"I mean, well," Ichirin added, "I don't mind it so much. Except for when she makes me do ensou. Eh. Hours of just drawing circles over and over. And over. Like come on."

"Like last year this one time," Ichirin was always so talkative, "It was like 6 a.m, I hadn't slept, I was sooo hungover-" Ichirin laughed.

"Like today?" Kokoro cut in sharply.

"Worse." Ichirin confirmed. She had self-awareness. "I was just sitting there like, all my concentration going to not propelling vomit all over the scroll- Hahaha!"

It was an embarrassing thing to imagine, but Ichirin sounded almost proud.

"I haven't been allowed to do any of that yet." Kyouko wasn't complaining. "It can't be too bad though, right? No worse than this at least."

"It's fun, as long as you're well rested and, decently prepared, I guess." Ichirin said. "I still vastly prefer doing manuscripts though."

"Hijiri said she's putting the one I did up on display." Kokoro said quietly.

"Oh, she did?" Kyouko smiled. "That's great. Isn't it?"

"I'm surprised she'd do that, but hey, that doesn't make it any less nice, does it?" Ichirin sounded positive.

Kokoro had thought about it some already. "I think it would be nice if it could contribute to the temple and everyone here."

"Sure?" Ichirin didn't really understand. "I mean, you're already contributing more than enough, though"

Ichirin had a good judgement of character, and was skilled at tapping into people's intentions.

Kyouko didn't quite follow. She looked between the two of them.

Kokoro in turn was a bit surprised, at Ichirin's response, and the implications themselves.

"...You think?"

"Yeah?" Ichirin had taken just a bit of a break then, wiping the sweat off her brow. "I mean, you're helping right now, aren't you?"

"Yes, but..." The aged woman mumbled. "I was thinking in terms of the, say, religious activities."

 **"Hey, everyone's jobs are just as important, you know?"** Kyouko yelled from atop the snow wall. She stood unsteadily, as if she would fall. **"The captain who cooks our meals, or the boss who gives us advice, or little old me who just stands around to clear the gate--"**

Kyouko slipped, but didn't fall. Unzan's big steady hand held her back, and Kyouko laughed.

The snow was falling heavier now.

"I mean yeah, I lose my motivation sometimes, but that way of thinking is pretty uplifting you know?"

"You been living here for so long, and yet you didn't know?" Ichirin was really amused, but her tone was not mocking.

Kokoro was getting desperate. "Know-- Know what?!" She asked, her embarrassment showing with the monkey.

 **"Regardless of their duty-"** Kyouko shouted, happily,  **"Everyone's contributions are just as important!"**

 **"That--"** She climbed higher up the snow wall,  **"Oof-"** She slipped once more, landing in the clouds. Unzan was keeping a close eye on her.

"That," Ichirin filled in, calmly, "Is the very fundamental philosophy of a Buddhist establishment."

Kokoro knew that. She had heard it before. Inspiring words, yet she had never applied them to herself.

She felt stupid.

"Hey now, cheer up," Ichirin had noticed. "We don't mean anything by it, okay?"

"It's fine." Kokoro sighed. "...It's a nice way of thinking. I'll try and remember it from now on."

"Hey, no shame in going over the fundamentals one extra time." Ichirin tried to reassure her. "I mean, uh, I'm not exactly a model nun either, I forget stuff all the time... So like, yeah."

"Let's get back to work, okay? Let's do our part." Ichirin said, and Kokoro nodded.

They worked hard for another good hour or so, and Kokoro spent a lot of that time thinking. Thinking about how even a novice can be a big help with simple tasks, and how even a hungover nun could be virtuous.

Such, was a day at the youkai temple.

 

 

 

 

Dinner was served, and finished. It was evening, and although the sun had not yet set, it was soon about to.

Walking down the very same hard packed snow pathway that Kokoro had helped clear that day, was two guests. Still standing watch outside, and with more to do as the snow continuously fell, was Kyouko, who upon spotting them fled her post with a yelp.

She held her head low and ran along the walkway, sliding on the slippery and wet wooden floors, just like she was told everyday not to. When she poked her head inside Byakuren's study to call out for her, her voice was pitiful.

"I see."

Byakuren wasted no time.

When she got to the entrance however, Miko and Futo where already there.

The snow squeaked under her feet as Byakuren approached them with form steps.

Miko pretended to be distracted by the sunset instead- It too, approached, barely visible between the trees behind the temple. Futo was more polite- Arms in her sleeves she greeted Byakuren with a bow.

"Good evening," Byakuren was first to speak.

"Yes," Miko drew her attention to their conversation. "Good evening, Hijiri. Kokoro is coming, is she?"

"Yes." Byakuren confirmed, as if it was even necessary. "She'll just be a minute."

There was silence between them- The cold that settled in the evening was uninviting. Futo shifted the weight on her feet- Once, then twice. Standing still, you would quickly start to freeze.

Miko turned to her, and spoke as if Byakuren wasn't there. "I told you to take the snowshoes, didn't I?"

Although her face was mostly hidden behind a muffler, Futo was visibly troubled by the reminder.

"This is quite the cold winter we're having, isn't it?" Byakuren made an effort to make conversation.

"I suppose." Miko agreed, not returning the favor.

Saving grace, Miko heard Kokoro approach the entrance before anyone else, and raised her head walking past Byakuren with the conviction of greeting her.

The front doors opened- "Kokoro, dear!" Miko called out. "There you are!"

As if surprised, Kokoro dramatically responded. "Miko! Hi!" She threw her arms in the air, celebratory.

Miko granted her a laugh. "How have you been?"

Meeting each other half way, they joined in what was barely a hug. Miko held onto Kokoro's arms and looked up at her face.

"I've been good." Kokoro nodded firmly.

"Really?" Miko smiled cheekily. "That's great."

The two of the walked side by side towards the gate, "Futo!" Miko called promptly. "Take her things."

 _"Ah-"_ Futo spoke for the first time. "Naturally--"

In a bit of a flurry, the three of them blended as Byakuren watched, only a few steps away.

"It's fine." Kokoro spoke calmly, but moved firmly, putting her luggage out of Futo's reach. "I'll carry it myself."

"Alright then, do as you wish."

They wouldn't linger much longer.

"Bye, Hijiri." Kokoro turned to her, breaking through Miko and Futo.

"Good-bye, Kokoro." Byakuren placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling her into an embrace. Kokoro closed her eyes, and held her arm. In the dry, cold air, it was hard to detect any smells, but as she drew a deep breath Kokoro still detected a fain scent of dust and incense. 

Byakuren smelled like the rest of the temple, and Kokoro could already visualize what it would be like to unpack her belongings here once more in spring, that feeling before you start to shut out the scent that is the scent of home.

With a hand on Kokoro's cheek, Byakuren said,"Take care now."

"Yes, I will." Kokoro responded diligently.

Miko waited with a fair amount of patience, watching them. Futo was already by the gate.

Satisfied with her good bye, Kokoro bounced eagerly towards the gate.

Then,

 _"He~y,"_ From behind her, by the temple front, someone called her. "Hey kid-- See ya soon! Take care!"

Mamizou was leaning out the opening, waving. She had caught wind of the departure from Kyouko, too.

Kokoro turned swiftly. Creating a big circle with her arms above her head, she yelled,

_**"Yes!"** _

Mamizou laughed, Byakuren did as well; Miko and Futo too, smiled.

"Come on, now," Miko said, in good spirits."Let's go before they change their minds about letting you." She joked.

Waving, Kokoro turned behind the wall, going down the road. Mamizou waved back to her.

Byakuren walked to the gate, and stood there, watching.

Miko had stopped less than a few meters ahead. Turning her head, she looked Byakuren straight in the eye. "Hijiri, if you don't mind--"

She spoke with a mocking politeness, but not without humor.

Byakuren shook her head. "I don't. Do what you must."

"Alright then,"

With the tip of her still sheathed sword, Miko marked the gap between two large stones that made up the Myouren Temple's outer wall.

"After you," She gestured to Kokoro, who turned to Byakuren one last time.

"Bye, Hijiri."

"Good bye, dear."

Kokoro slipped like a ghost into the crack and disappeared. After a wordless nod to Byakuren, Futo followed, but with more flair.

Byakuren wanted to confirm this one last thing. "I'll see you soon again, yes?"

Miko grinned. "Regrettably, yes. We'll be back."

They shared no more than a second or two of silence, free of tension. Miko left without a good bye or a thank you, but Byakuren did not hold it against her. 

 

 

 

 

Night had fallen, inviting the evening star. They walked the pavement, approaching the Mausoleum.

"We're going back to visit the temple on new years." Kokoro stated.

Futo turned to her, but said nothing. Miko paused.

"We... are?"

"Yes, we are." Kokoro repeated. "We're going to be there by midnight. Then back to the Mausoleum for a late dinner."

"...I see." Miko didn't have any particular plans. "Alright, I suppose that's fair."

"Yeah you bet it is." Kokoro walked past Futo, catching up to Miko. "I wanna hear them ring the bell!"

The hyottoko was excited.

"Ah, the bell!" Futo reinforced the idea. "A simple construction, yet a wholesome sound!"

"It rings like," Kokoro put her foot down firmly, **"Don-"**  and the other, **"Don-"**  and again, **"Don-"**  and one last time, **"Don-"** 

"Alright, alright!" Miko said again, smiling at her antics, "We're going, okay? We'll go, and stay for the bell."

 _"Yahoo!"_ The hyottoko celebrated, the cry echoing between the walls.

The inner yard to which they had arrived, was empty. The myriad of overlapping footsteps in the snow told of it's usual busy state, and such the lack of people was almost unsettling.

Kokoro ran on ahead, with a clear spring in her steps. "Has everyone already gone to bed?" She asked.

"No, they haven't." Miko steered for the entrance. "It's just about dinner time here, they are waiting for us in the dining halls."

In daytime, it was an essential space for training and lecturing, in the evenings and mornings it became lined with low-set tables for mealtime. After taking off their outerwear, and left Kokoro's luggage to a girl waiting diligently just as they got inside, they were headed there.

_"Her highness, Toyosatomimi no Miko, has returned!"_

The attendant announced their arrival, standing to attention at the main hall's entrance. 

Two rows of disciples all turned their eyes to them when they entered.

"Hello everyone," All smiles, Miko greeted them casually.

Lowering their heads, in unison they sounded, "Welcome back, your highness."

"As you can see," Miko out her hand on Kokoro's shoulder. "Kokoro's back with us!"

Once more, as if in repetition, lowered heads, greetings, "Welcome back, young lady Kokoro."

Kokoro froze up, unprepared, suddenly shy.

"H-" Her face was covered completely by the monkey. "Hello, everyone." As quietly as she spoke, in the almost perfect silence, she was clearly audible.

"Please, please--" Miko appealed to them. "Return to eating. We'll excuse ourselves."

Just next door, was Miko's private dining room.

Size was about the same, only the furnishing was only for four people.

"Ah," Miko exclaimed, holding out her hands. "I see you couldn't help yourself." She joked.

Tojiko set down her chopsticks, lowering her head. "Forgive me, your highness." She leered just a bit.

"It us good to see you are in good spirits, your highness." Tojiko noted. "Futo," She nodded. A simple greeting.

Futo bowed. "Tojiko."

"And, it is nice to see you again." Tojiko's formality usually came with a mocking, ironic edge, but she wasn't so cruel she would greet Kokoro insincerely.

Kokoro had already soaked up the royal atmosphere, her previous shyness shifting away like the turn of a page. "I heed you, for my feelings are mutual. Good to see you!"

Tojiko's laugh was a low, but not unpleasant, like a cracking fire.

"Please have a seat. We'll be eating." Miko informed.

"I already ate." Kokoro said plainly.

"Then, won't you join us in conversation?" Miko offered.

"Sure," Kokoro shrugged. "I will."

Time flows like sand through our fingers, and soon, it was late. Conversations of the year's events, things that had happened at the Mausoleum in Kokoro's absence and presence, and so on-- High spirits, yes, but something was still a bit different from normal.

When Kokoro was finally alone in her room she was exhausted. Through the veil on her bed, she threw herself headfirst.

In the end, she had ended up eating dinner twice, and while the usual meal served at the temple was meager but filling, the dinner here in the Mausoleum had been prepared for the occasion. Fancy, and with many servings.

She had been drinking a bit too, not enough to get more than tipsy, but together with the fatigue, it made her head spin a bit.

The bedding smelled of spring water and flowery perfume. It, too, smelled like home.

For a moment, Kokoro thought of sleeping, sleeping in her clothes, on top of the covers, in this uncomfortable position.

Then, she remembered something. The energy came back to her, almost akin to a stroke of magic.

Her luggage sat by the door.

Darting to the slumped over package, Kokoro carefully unwrapped it. She threw her clothes carelessly in contrast, but she was proper once more when she placed aside the calligraphy case. The pamphlet she had taken with her, she folded and placed on top of her desk.

Finally, she turned her attention to the uncovered package within the package.

Kokoro held up the present in front of her, and stared at it, holding her breath. What could it be? She wondered, excited.

She undid the string, and the wrapping, making sure to do it no harm. The lanterns were still burning, hanging outside her window. Paper-cover, the book was light but fine. It was alien to the touch, glossy, reflective. She could see the outline of her own face on the cover. It was a material she had never before seen in her life, and it was beautiful.

In the warm light, she saw how the ingrained letter on the front cast shadows, she ran her fingers across them. She wondered, how such printing was made-- How did they get the letters pushed in like that?

The book was indeed like nothing she had ever seen before. It was not something of Gensoukyou; That much was clear from just a glance.

She had already read the title over and over, but now she read it aloud.

"The art of the Japanese Noh Theater- Past and Present."

The book bent, when Kokoro, unable to contain her feelings, clutched it in both her hands.

Overemotional- or perhaps suitably emotional, she became, her face expressionless as she shed a tear over the gift, that surely had nothing but heartfelt care engraved into it.

She got changed, she lit a lantern next to her bedside, and she laid down, thinking that, seeing as it was so late, it wouldn't hurt to stay up just a bit longer.

Kokoro eagerly opened the first page, and read for them top.

"First edition. Copyright 2015. SHUEISHA."

 

 

 

 

"Ah, it's such a blessing to have you under my roof again. You were thrust upon me during unfortunate circumstances, perhaps, but I hold you dear in my heart-- and I recognize your growth."

It was hardly an audience, but it was starting to feel like one.

Like last night, it was just the four of them.

It was past morning, already past noon as well-- Some had been in bed long, hungover, while others had found themselves engrossed in reading till sunrise.

Miko was speaking freely.

They had been served sweets and tea, but the tea was too hot to drink without waiting, and the sweets too sweet to eat without tea.

"--I know now perhaps, truly, how Emperor Kimmei felt, that fateful day, when he was walking along the riverbank, and found the infant Hata no Kawakatsu in a jar by the riverside, took him into his arms and into his home..."

A name she knew all to well, the name of a man Kokoro had never met.

For several reasons it was a suitable comparison.

"Hata no Kawakatsu--"

She repeated the name, its sound, considering its significance.

"Yes," Miko brushed her chin, thinking of the past. "He was a good man, served many rulers before me."

"He was like me-" Kokoro held on to her deadpan, even in this, perhaps controversial statement. "-Not human?"

"Eh," Miko shrugged. "Most likely, so yes. I hear, he eventually left the courts that had raised him to go on to be revered in both Shintoism and Buddhism as a god."

Miko laughed. "Now, isn't that funny?"

Kokoro slumped a bit. "It is...? Why?"

Miko might have at least glanced at Futo or Tojiko at this point. She didn't, either of them were quiet regardless. Futo was blinking a bit unevenly. Tojiko hid a big yawn behind her sleeve.

It was past noon, but this was breakfast for at least three out of four of them.

"It's funny because, see," Miko gave a little laugh once more, "Kawakatsu, having lived as a ruler of Qin in the third century in his former life, he taught us of the tradition of song and dance. This eventually became noh, as you know, and even noh itself was--"

"Originally widespread as _kagura_ , originating in use as Shinto rituals, in the Heian period reinvented as noh, and came to be a common feature of Buddhist temples." Kokoro filled in. In her dead-pan, she almost came of as accusing. "In the end, Kawakatsu's fate as a figure of worship in both religions seems to have been natural. How is it funny?"

Miko cleared her throat. "It is funny, because, as I was going to say," In turn, she sounded just a bit annoyed. This didn't bother Kokoro in the slightest. "That very same music and dance tradition is originally said to have been strengthened and influenced by Taoist traditions. That is, in Kawakatsu's home of Qin."

"Oh."

Kokoro had flinched in surprise.

"That is funny." She admitted.

"Right?" In the end, everything came around, like the snake that devoured it's own tail. Miko was delighted. "The Tao lies in the origin of the Japanese theater, although it is not a commonly known, or admitted fact."

Kokoro hadn't know, either. None of that had been covered in her book. She wondered if the information was controversial, or simply not well-spread.

"As such, you understand, this is yet another reason I feel a great responsibility to you, and your development." Warmth such as this, in Miko's voice, was a rarity.

To hear it over and over as she had today and the day before, Kokoro nonetheless felt thankful, and a little awkward. She nodded simply, hiding her face behind the young woman.

"Which is why, it's important that you know if you ever have any questions, or anything you need help with, you can always ask me."

The solemn silence that Miko had intended for did not come.

"Oh yeah. Good thing you said that, there's this one thing I need help with."

The tea was still hot. The only way to drink it was to slurp it, slowly, with your lips only brushing the surface.

Miko glared at Tojiko until she sat the cup back down.

Tojiko made do at her own pace.

Miko cleared her throat.

"Oh, you do?" Miko didn't like being surprised. Regardless, she was good at adapting. "Say, whatever may it be?"

"I've been thinking." Kokoro said, plainly.

"...You have?" Miko tread lightly. Kokoro's mannerism could put-off even the most skilled conversationalists.

"Uh-huh, I have. About stuff, like you said I needed to keep developing, and be one with the masks, and Hijiri said a bunch of stuff like that too. About finding myself."

Kokoro paused for a bit too long.

"Is that what you want help with?" Miko thought it must be something more specific than that. Kokoro could be a bit strange at times, she could be inexperienced, but she always had a clear goal in everything she did.

"Well, yeah. Or like, there's something I need help with that only you can do." The fox always demanded respect. _"I have an idea!"_ Kokoro announced. "Something that could help me, help me a lot!"

"You do?" A certain goal, that Kokoro had for sure. As to what, Miko was curious, nervous.

With the sudden yelling, Futo and Tojiko had snapped to attention, looking awake and alert for the first time that day. Awake, alert, and a little perplexed.

"Do you remember what happened this summer?" Kokoro asked, calm once more, at the bat of an eye.

"This summer? You mean the incident?" Many things had happened then, but in terms of Kokoro--

"My mask broke."

It had.

"You helped me fix it." Eventually, she had.

"Yes..." Miko sought the significance in this. There was sure to be some. "Do you want me to teach you how to repair them yourself?"

"Well." Kokoro said marking some hesitance, not in her voice but with her words. "Not quite, although that would too be helpful. The event made me realize I rely on others maybe a bit too much. Relying on people is fine, but I want to be able to care of myself."

"I can understand that." Miko said, earnestly. If it was something to help with Kokoro's independence, she was all for it.

"Also, I have realized it is time, time for me to grow." Kokoro said. "To keep growing."

"Um," Miko hesitated. "What is it that you want to do exactly?"

 _"Teach me!"_ Kokoro had yet another outburst, the fox becoming her aid. **"Teach me how to make my own masks!"**

"...Excuse me?" Miko held back a chuckle. "You want me too--"

Stunned, Futo had paused just as she was reaching for a rice cracker.

"---Teach you how to make your own masks?"

 _"Yes!"_ Kokoro's forehead met the floor. _"Please!"_

Miko didn't know where to start. She was appalled.

"Listen, Kokoro..." She sighed. "The original 66 masks I made... They are meant to be a complete set. And-- How would you even adapt to a new mask? Could you?"

"Of course I can." Kokoro said. The fox was still there. "And there's nothing wrong with the original 66. But I need more."

"You need more?" _What in the world has flung into her?_ Miko wondered. "Besides, the art of making noh masks is a hard skill to master. It takes time and dedication."

"I would not ask if there was no need, now would I?" Such determination was easily mistaken for anger. Kokoro walked a fine line. "I am ready to work hard, I am ready to commit myself."

"Let me ask you--" Miko decided to get serious. If Kokoro was serious, she needed to be, too. "Why do you need more masks?"

"Miko." Kokoro spoke her name familiarly. "The art of noh keeps evolving, with every age. I am stuck in a time of the past. I am forever grateful for the original 66 masks, for from them I was born." Kokoro rose her head. Miko watched her, warily, listening carefully. "I owe you my life. But it is also therefore I ask of you, please. Please teach me that art which you used to create me-- So that I can continue to shape myself, so that I may keep growing and evolving, alongside the ages, and the art, that my existence inspired."

Rigid in posture, proud and solemn but humble-- Kokoro tried to imagine herself such, just like she had seen Byakuren so many times during the sermons. "Please, give me the tools to shape my own future."

For once, Kokoro's dramatic way with words spoke only in her favor.

Before her resolve Miko had not much to counter with. The idea in itself to her, still, was reasonably absurd, but against Kokoro's words she could hardly argue. It was all perfectly reasonable.

"I see." Miko nodded. "If that is how you feel, I will teach you."

 _"Yes!"_ The hyottoko celebrated once more, and Kokoro had raised both arms in the air.

Futo and Tojiko exchanged looks. When she found support in Tojiko's equally questioning expression, Futo looked to speak up. "Y-Your highn-"

"-Just let me ask you," There was one thing still that bothered Miko. "Um, going against tradition with more than 66 masks right of the bat... In terms of modernization don't you think that is a bit too much?"

Kokoro put her arms down, slowly. "What do you mean...?"

"I will teach you the art. But actually making a new mask just like that, don't you think you are going too far?" Miko clarified.

"Yeah. I heard you." Kokoro responded quickly.

"Yes...?" Miko didn't know how to follow up.

"Miko." Kokoro stated. "Do you know how many masks there are in contemporary noh?"

Suddenly, Miko was not that confident. "...There are more than the original 66?"

"I don't know about Gensoukyou," Kokoro shrugged. "But on the outside they're already using over 200."

"Ah..." Miko deemed it right to laugh at her own mistake. She wasn't so uptight she wouldn't. "I see. So that's how it is. I had no idea."

"A-yup!" Kokoro nodded sharply.

Futo finally got the courage to speak up. "Your highness, is this rightfully acceptable?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Miko wasn't about to back out now.

"I mean, with all due respect... What if something goes amiss?" Futo choose her words carefully.

"Nothing's going to go wrong, Futo." Miko didn't care for the same amount of regard. "I shall oversee it, and make sure no such thing happens."

At this point, Kokoro was getting really excited.

Miko noticed her literally bouncing bouncing. "Hear me, Kokoro. If we really are going to do this, I need to you to be attentive, and listen to me closely. Throughout the entire process. Alright?"

"Yes!" This time, she said it without the cheer of the hyottoko, and with the determination of the fox.

Hardly ever had Miko lost so quickly in an argument, as she had just now. However, she didn't feel bad about it. She was unable to match Kokoro's enthusiasms by a long shot, but that was perhaps because she already felt quite accomplished.

Miko felt that way, because just now she had seen proof of what she had before only suspected.

Kokoro was already thinking and acting independently.

She was learning, leaning of things Miko herself did not know.

 

 

 

 

They had more than a moment to spare. It was a rather lazy day.

"Is it really acceptable for her highness to take on Ms. Kokoro's request?"

Futo was audibly concerned.

With Miko's decision already clear, Tojiko hadn't thought about it any further. "I guess?"

She was already drinking again, mixing liquors. They sat in one abandoned training room, between elaborate pillars in stone, overlooking the yard.

"I mean, if she needs it to stay healthy, then why not?" She clarified. "I think she had some good points."

"Hmmm... I suppose it might be comparable to that of a human strengthening their bodies or adapting new skills." Futo sat rigidly, but Tojiko leaned on the pillar. Her drinks flowed like water. "Teaching her how to mend and create her own masks, that is.

Futo seemed satisfied enough with her own conclusion.

Tojiko hadn't thought about it before, but she did now, blinking, staring ahead of herself. 

"The menreiki making herself new masks, like... Wouldn't it be more like--" Tojiko couldn't help but grin, as she envision it in her mind, and tried to put it into words. "Someone having the ability to grow a new limb on their body?"

Struck with the idea, Futo froze. "A-" Tojiko saw her lower lip tremble, and laughed. "That's- Atrocious, how- Youkai, growing extra limbs--"

Futo had always been rather squeamish.

"I wouldn't say no to an extra arm if it was me." Tojiko admitted. "Or a leg. I kinda miss those, sometimes. Just one though, two would be too much."

Futo shivered, holding her head in her hands.

"You know, with two heads, do you think you would think twice as fast or would you just end up arguing with yourself?"

"Please... Let's speak of something else."

 

 

 

 

The smell of cypress wood, sweet yet spicy. Miko still regularly did woodwork, luckily for Kokoro.

"I want this one!" Kokoro had said, already sliding a block of the shelf near the door.

"No, you can't use any of those." Miko stood just one shelf further into the room.

"Why not?" Kokoro complained, fumbling gracefully to put the heavy block back in place.

"Those are too fresh. You can't work fresh wood. You need something aged." Miko was a tad absent-minded.

"Oh." The block slid into place. "I see. I didn't know."

"This is a decent size." Miko had picked out something smaller, a bit more manageable. "Is this fine with you?"

Aside from the growth ring patterns, Kokoro had no real way to tell the different slabs apart. And even if she could, she didn't know what to look for. Tipping her head to the side, she had no intention to reveal this to Miko, yet, she had no way of hiding it either.

"We have already picked out pieces that are good enough quality here in the storage, so don't worry. This one has aged well, and," Miko flipped it over, "As far as I can tell, it has good weight and density."

The tools were all unfamiliar, as well. Once they sat in Miko's study, Kokoro had taken the chisel in her hand and turned it over a number of times, and Miko said to her; "Don't be afraid to let this take some time. Practice, then perfection. Alright?"

Kokoro turned slowly. "Hijiri said I'm very talented. At art."

"...Of course you are." Miko had no reason to object. "I just thought that, you should be prepared to maybe ruin a few blocks before your first mask is finished."

"Did you ruin any blocks?" Kokoro asked, quickly. Sharpness in her voice was not needed, it was already embedded into the question.

"...No, I... I didn't." Miko admitted, almost embarrassed. "I had... A lot of talents, as a child."

"Any sculpture you ever undertook, you always finished it, without any mishaps whatsoever?" Kokoro stared hard. Not out of spite. She was concentrating. 

"Yes." Miko said, with renewed confidence. "I always did, since the very first one."

"Then," Kokoro put the chisel down, next to the other tools, where they laid in neat rows, "As your student, I shall aim to be no less than you."

"You're ambitious." Miko smiled. "That's a good trait."

"Thank you." Kokoro said, mimicking Byakuren once more, with her somber voice and gratuitous half-bow.

"Before we start working the wood, Kokoro, what do we need?" Miko asked.

Kokoro considered the question, and as she did, she remembered the day before, and the calligraphy practice. "...To talk?"

"...That was not what I had in mind," Miko thought they had already talked quite a bit. "But sure. Is there anything more you want to ask me?"

Kokoro thought about it. "Miko," There was just this one thing. "Do you know why we study history?"

"Why," Miko didn't hesitate before answering. "It is to learn of ourselves. Our past is the key to our future."

Satisfied, Kokoro nodded. The young woman was vibrant.

"Although honestly, in my case, I think I need to study the current times a bit more," On the topic of what they had talked about earlier, Miko had no hard feelings. She laughed. "Lest I want to keep being bested by those I should be teaching."

"Right." Kokoro said simply. "That was all."

"You have nothing else?" Miko asked, making sure.

Kokoro shook her head.

"Alright then. What we need, Kokoro before beginning, is an idea. An idea of what to make, and with what purpose." Miko realized what she had just said might be too vague. "As in, what kind of mask to you want to make? It would be meaningless it if had no use, no purpose to fill, other than to just expand your collection."

"Oh." Kokoro didn't sound the least surprised. "But I have an idea already."

"Oh--" Miko, on the other hand, did. "You do?"

 _"A-yup!"_ Kokoro rose her arms in a victory pose. "I do!"

"Well, what ever could it be?" Miko was curious. She actually hadn't expected Kokoro to have thought this through so far.

From inside of the sleeve of the haori she wore, borrowed from the temple to protect from the cold, Kokoro retrieved a folded piece of paper. She unfolded it dramatically, and held up, arm extended at full length, displaying it to Miko.

"Um," Miko leaned back just a bit, at the paper had been invading her personal space. "Open hours 8 am to 9 pm?" She read a loud, "4-56 Main street, Brand New Opening special offer; Children and Seniors come in for free?"

"No, _no no!"_ Kokoro pulled back. "The picture, _the picture!"_ She pointed with her other hand.

"You... You want to make a tanuki mask?" Miko asked, still uncertain. It seemed a bit too simple.

"Well." Kokoro quietened down quickly. She turned the paper to get a look at the picture herself. "I guess so. But it's more the face that's important."

"The face?" Miko held out her hand, and Kokoro handed her the pamphlet. Miko studied it.

"A calm face. A face that is mellow, and worry-less. That sort of face." Kokoro said, sternly. "Excitement, and stillness; they are important, valuable aspects of life. But we also need something in-between, things that not as extreme or dramatic."

Miko gave this serious thought. She liked the idea, but she also needed to challenge it. "What of the mask of hope, Kokoro?"

"I thought of it too." Kokoro admitted. "Hope, I believe is something that is necessary in order for one to be calm, at peace. But are they one and the same? I realized that was not it." Kokoro shook her head. "You need hope for there to be excitement for the future, or for you to find reason in your meditations. Emotions are all connected after all."

"I suppose..." Miko considered it. This was not something she thought was easy, either.

"What I want is something else, something new." Kokoro hit her chest with her open palm, and laid it to rest over her heart. "I want an emotion, an expression that does not necessarily rely on my perceived oncoming prospects in a near or distant future. I want a state that is pleased, and that is satisfied with the simple things in life, that can cast away worries and delve in the momentary pleasures of life. That, without excessive excitement, celebration, or bittersweet realization."

"Right now," Kokoro put her palms down in front of her, staring into the floor. "I feel as if this is something I am missing in my life."

Miko watched Kokoro. In silence, she looked at the drawing once more, and then back to Kokoro. With a frown, she folded the picture up once more, and laid it to rest. "Kokoro," She made sure to sound serious. "To me, it sounds like thought about this quite a bit."

"I have." Fore once, Kokoro's deadpan was not all-too out of place.

"It's not a bad idea." Miko met her gaze. "You've made some good arguments. I'd say this is worth our time."

Even if she could hide her excitement Kokoro probably wouldn't. "You-- _You think?!"_ The hyottoko was always a clear sign. "Wow!"

Miko let some of her seriousness slip away. She smiled pleasantly.

She hadn't noticed, but it seemed as if Kokoro had been worried Miko would reject her idea. Her emotions were not always easy to read, even for Miko.

They started working, and they did, for the rest of the day, save their breaks. After the sketch-work was finished, layouts covering the different angles they had worked out together, the wood would start to chipped away. Fast in the beginning, but it is the parts that come after that that are harder.

When Miko went to bed, it was late. They had done a decent chunk of the rough wood work already, which was more than she had expected. However, even for someone very experienced, making a noh mask from start to completion took many days. In those cases too, they would tackle designs they were already well-versed with. This was different all-together. In her heart, Miko was worried, and she embraced that feeling, hoping it would help her guide Kokoro in her artistic development, and as a spiritual being.

As she fell asleep, she remembered her father, and how she had prayed for him, day and night on end, as he lay to rest, his life having ended. Then, she thought once more of Emperor Kimmei, and of the time he found Hata no Kawakatsu in a clay basin by the river.

 

 

 

 

Smooth, such was the surface of the wood, comparable to nary anything else once it reached this state.

Days later, the wood work was finished, and Kokoro had stayed true to her ambition. Not a single block of wood had been wasted.

Miko had at that point ceased to be surprised, even if she remained impressed. It was not often she would wholeheartedly agree with Byakuren, but this was such an occasion.

Kokoro was a bit late that morning after breakfast but Miko didn't think anything of it. When she did show, however, she had brought something with her.

"We need to get paint and brushes today," Miko said as Kokoro settled by her.

"Nah," Kokoro said. "Just paint." 

She opened the case, carefully, laying the lid open. Miko leaned over to get a better look. She knew this case. During the days of her stay, she had seen it several times in Kokoro's room. She had wondered about it, but not asked.

"Kokoro... These are calligraphy brushes." She pointed out.

"...Is that no good?" Kokoro slumped. "I really wanted to make use of them, so..."

"How come you have these?" Miko asked. "I don't recall you being interested in calligraphy."

Kokoro squirmed visibly, and despite her eternal poker-face, her feelings were clear. Miko already knew her answer, now.

"It was a present. Hijiri gave them to me."

Miko pretended to be surprised. "Oh really? That was, well, considerate of her."

It was an unusual present from a Buddhist nun, Miko thought.

"She said they'd just collect dust, since no-one really uses them. Are you sure we won't have any use for them?"

"Well, I guess that depends..." For the base layers of paint, they'd need something entirely different. However, there was also the detail work, the finishing touches. Miko studied the different brushes. "...I think we could make it work. If you're fine with maybe making some alterations to the brushes, and adapting the style accordingly...

"Really? We can make it work?" Truth to be told, Kokoro had been a bit uncertain herself.

"Sure." They had already come this far.

"It's worth a try."

The woodwork had taken a few days. For the painting, it would take a few more, at least. Noh masks required several layers of slow-drying paint, and that, in several different stages.

They could at least try and incorporate the brushes at some point, Miko had figured.

That, and the good quality ink, and the emotional attachments, all equally important to the process.

 

 

 

 

Although it has been made in all haste, Miko had kept her promise, and stayed true to her word.

A few tense conversations, she could bare with, for Kokoro's sake.

That, and as Futo has said, the bell did have a wholesome sound.

It had been ringing for some time now.

It was New Years' Eve already, and the Myouren Temple was still half-way buried in snow.

"I didn't actually think either of you would be here." Byakuren had caught Miko, somehow, between the wall of snow behind the main building and the wall of worshipers in the yard.

"Kokoro really wanted to stop by," Miko tried to not smile so pointedly. "So naturally we had to come by for a spell."

"That was considerate of you." Miko noted that Byakuren sounded sincere. That made it easier to smile earnestly. It had already been years since they had stood side by side as Kokoro had performed at Shrine, that very first time.

They both simultaneously wondered then, if it was so that they would only end up having more and more things in common as the years went by.

Miko coughed, without much to say.

"How has she been?" Byakuren asked

"Busy." Miko responded, quickly.

"...Really?" Surprised, Byakuren also got curious. "How's so? Did something happen?"

"Nothing bad, she's doing fine." Miko affirmed. "However, she's gotten into woodwork, and such." Miko wanted to hold onto the full story for just a bit longer. She was proud of what Kokoro had asked of her, and wanted to reveal it at a more ideal time.

"Oh, she's hard at work as usual, isn't she?" Byakuren smiled so brightly, Miko adverted her eyes.

"Yes," She said, smiling herself, but a lot more meagerly, "I heard, that just before she left, you gifted her a calligraphy case. Is that right?"

"Yes, that's true." Byakuren nodded. "Or, actually," Byakuren started, correcting herself, "What I gave her, was a lesson in calligraphy. That case, she asked for it."

"Oh, she did?" When Kokoro had told Miko, it had sounded like it had been a gift on Byakuren's accord.

"Yes, she did." Byakuren remembered the moment. "With her eyes."

"Ah..." Things became clear now. "I see, I see!" Miko laughed.

It was so easy to imagine.

"Despite everything, she is always so expressive, isn't she." Byakuren said fondly.

"Indeed." Miko agreed. She decided to tell her own story. "There was something she asked of me too, and very earnestly so."

"Oh, she did?" Byakuren asked.

"I said woodwork just now, but to be more precise, what she has been doing, is that she has been making her first very own mask." Miko let the words sink in. Looking up from the crowd, she met her Byakuren's gaze and witnessed her expression turn contemplative. 

"Please don't worry." Miko added, calmly. "I have been overlooking her every step of the way. And, already before that, she appeared to have thought this through very carefully. All has gone well."

Byakuren still looked worried, and Miko in turn became uncomfortable. Seeking to calm her, she said, "Hijiri, I know you may not have much faith me, personally, but as an artisan, I reassure you, I know what I'm doing, and I know what's good for her."

"I'm sorry." Byakuren pulled herself together. "It's not that. It's just-" She sought words. "A bit startling."

"I was startled too, when she asked me to teach her." Miko admitted. "But so far, it has all gone beyond expectation."

"It has?" Byakuren looked almost misty eyed, and Miko didn't know quite how to deal with it. "That's really great to hear."

"Yes... It's like you said. She's very talented." Miko just repeated what Kokoro had said. "The calligraphy set came to good use, too."

"Oh, I knew it was a good idea to give it to her." Byakuren sniffed, and in this rather emotional moment, Miko couldn't help but let a laugh slip. Not mockingly, but earnestly finding humor in this rather absurd situation.

"It's been very fun working with her." Miko said, to add her own experience.

"I can imagine." Byakuren wasn't envious. It was a shared happiness, as strange as it was. "So suitable for the two of you, too."

The bell was ringing, with it's low, hollow sound, vibrating in the air, setting the tone for the very atmosphere.

"Seeing as, I've heard, the art of making noh masks is traditionally passed from parent to child."

There was that bright smile once more, but this time, Miko did not look away.

 

 

 

 

The topic of their conversation had already since long dived in among the visitors, friends and strangers alike.

Kokoro had been on the look for the former.

Conversations that had started, ended, and to the sound of the bell ringing out once more, finally, she caught sight of Mamizou.

Running, and linking arms with her from behind, Mamizou got quite the startle.

"Hey, hey, _whoa!"_ Kokoro dragged her along with her. "Hey, there kid! I didn't know you'd even be here!"

"Yo!" Kokoro rose her other arm, like a robot. "I came to see you all on New Years!"

"Wow, really? Where's that hermit of yours?" Mamizou was already keeping even steps with her.

"She's talking to Hijiri, I think." Kokoro had her eyes glued ahead of her.

"Oh wow, really?" Mamizou turned her head as far as it would go, hoping she might catch them in action.

"There's something I wanna show you."

"There is?" Mamizou wondered, "How come we're in such a hurry though?"

"The bell." Kokoro said, simply.

It was a literal few second later, when they sat atop the snow wall, overlooking the temple grounds. The very same one Kokoro had helped build, that had only grown higher in her absence.

The sound of many, many indistinguishable voices, and over that, the bell.

Kokoro stared in front of her in silence. Mamizou peered at her.

"So, uh, did you want to talk or anything?" Mamizou asked carefully.

"Nope." Kokoro said simply.

"Alright then." Mamizou could deal with sitting in silence with company, no problem. She might even enjoy it.

Kokoro listened, and for a moment she closed her eyes. Her heart trembled for a bit, when she thought of the new year, of time passing, and the things time took away and left behind as the days cycled to weeks, and months, and finally, years.

One year, in the age of a youkai, is not even that long, and yet.

"I haven't been keeping tabs," Mamizou admitted. "But it should be soon."

After midnight, the bell rings eight more times.

Mamizou looked in the direction of the bell. It was hard to see, they sat in an elevated position but there was a lot of people. Ichirin and Unzan were ringing the bell this year.

Kokoro looked in that direction as well.

"There was something you wanted, to show me, huh--" Mamizou turned, and, immediately, "Wh-" She laughed, "W- _what is that?"_

"This," Kokoro said calmly, even in face of Mamizou's snickering laughter, "Is my satisfied face."

"I don't believe this," Mamizou tried to calm down, but one more look was enough make her snort, and start laughing again. "Your satisfied face? _A tanuki?"_

 _"Yes,"_ Kokoro said, satisfied. "A tanuki. I made it."

"You _made it? By yourself?"_

Mamizou overcame her disbelief. "You're really something huh?"

"Miko helped." Kokoro admitted. "It was all thanks to her. And Hijiri. And you too, I guess."

"Wow, well--" Mamizou wiped away tears of laughter. "How did I help, anyway?" She tried not to laugh again. She failed. "My likeness?"

"The book you gave me was a great source of inspiration."

The bell rang.

And then, no more.

It was a new year.

The chatter increased, some shouting, celebrating.

"Really?" Mamizou relaxed. "I didn't think, well," She really hadn't. "But that's great to hear. It's great, really."

Kokoro nodded. "Yeah. It made me realize something important."

"It did?" Mamizou had already grown sentimental, it was yet another strange, strange moment she found herself in.

"Yeah like, growing and maturing takes action. Somethings you wait for, but other things, you gotta make them happen yourself." Kokoro said. "That's what I realized."

Mamizou out her hand on Kokoro's shoulder. "Happy new year, kid.

"Yes," Kokoro tuned to face her. Mamizou locked eyes with the other tanuki before her, however briefly. "Happy new year."

Kokoro looked out over the temple grounds. Finally, she had spotted them, the last people she had been looking for in the crowd.

Just by the walls on the other side, Miko and Byakuren were still standing side by side.

Pulling Kokoro just a bit closer, Mamizou sighed. "And here's hoping for another good, eventful year. No, a better one!"

"It has indeed been a good year." Kokoro mumbled. "You could say it has left me... Satisfied."

Mamizou laughed, again.

"I ought to say you deserve to be," She said, as soon as her fit ended.

"I mean, you've worked hard. That satisfaction, you've clearly earned, kid."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, Huppa here!
> 
> This is my first time doing something like this, so I was honestly mighty nervous. I was surprised how much fun it was to think of an idea based around someone else's wishes, though. I really had a blast! It was like fitting together the pieces of a puzzle. I still feel that this story is very much my own usual style though. So maybe it was less that I adapted to the wishes and more that I made the wishes adapt to me... Haha... 
> 
> I ended up making a whole lot of research while writing this, since I wanted everything to be reasonably correct in the context of things. I feel like I spent more time reading up on stuff than I did writing, but that's part of the process I guess. I ended up watching two documentaries on the art of noh too, which was very interesting. In one of them, they showed scenes from a modern noh performance, which incidentally was the story of the beast "Nue". You know, the very same one as in _Heian Alien_ and _Hiroari Shoots a Strange Bird_? I thought that was funny.
> 
> Time working on this was a bit short, and I honestly felt like I could have worked on this much longer. There were also some ideas that didn't make it in, like I thought a lot about how historically, Shoutoku Taishi isn't credited for creating noh or noh masks at all, never really mentioned anywhere in the context of noh. The credit goes to Kan'ami Kiyotsugu and Zeami Motokiyo, who were said to have invented noh later, in the Heian era. I thought that maybe, Kokoro became a youkai because of how Shoutoko Taishi's works were discredited in this way. But in the end I couldn't fit any of that into any dialogue or story line.
> 
> But, yes, I had a great time, and I would like to thank everyone involved for giving me this opportunity! To cloudytian and everyone else; Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a Happy New Year!


End file.
